


The Wonderful Wizard of Beacon Hills

by LennysaurusB



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Magic!Stiles, stiles and lydia are bffs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LennysaurusB/pseuds/LennysaurusB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was raised believing in magic, until magic couldn't save the most important thing in his world. But when childhood fantasies become teenaged realities, Stiles will delve once more into the land of the occult in order to save the ones he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nanowrimo submission for 2013. :)

Stiles has always believed in magic. Ever since he was a little boy, he had believed in the ability of people to do the impossible. His mother only encouraged it, helping him to make potions in the back yard, to word spells to fight the monsters under the bed, encouraging his thirst for knowledge about the occult and helping him whenever she could.  
But when he was 9, she was diagnosed.  
Potions turned into chemicals, seeming only to speed up the process.  
Spells turned into prayers as Stiles watched his mother wither and fade away in front of his eyes.  
And when no amount of magic could prevent Stiles from losing the most important person in his world, he turned his back on it all.  
But then Scott was bitten, and everything changed.

On the very night that Scott was bitten, Stiles knew something was off. His mother’s old stories nagged at him, trying to tell him something oh so important. As he had done in the past, Stiles took a couple more Adderall and hoped for the best. But when the bite’s effects began to show, Stiles knew that there was more to this than just some animal attack. He delved back into the books he had stored away so long ago (because out of sight meant out of mind), but his mother’s tomes held very little regarding what Stiles suspected. So Stiles did what he does best. He pulled out his laptop and began trolling the internet, searching for anything useful.  
One sleepless weekend, and Stiles knew all he needed to.  
Werewolf. 

It took a while to convince Scott of the truth. That magic was real, that werewolves were real, and hey, you are one! As Scott slowly began to accept his fate, Stiles started to realise his own. His mother hadn’t been merely playing along with a childhood fantasy. His mother had been trying to teach something very important to him. To guide him along the right path. So it was with a still grief laden heart that Stiles returned back to the attic, where his mother’s things lay, to find the truth.  
He spent the following night going through as much as he could. His mother’s old books were useful, but contained very little beyond childish fairy tales. The internet held a lot of bullshit, full of sparkly vampire nonsense and obsessions with teen heartthrobs turned supernatural beings. Soon Stiles began to realise that there was very little available to him about magic online. Barely anything, except for the address to an old bookshop of the occult, about 2 hours north of Beacon Hills.  
So the next day after school, Stiles, instead of going to Scott’s as his dad believed, drove. And drove, and drove. He got lost a couple of times, but thanks to google maps (and mobile data), he managed to find his way, eventually. Stiles parked his car out front, eyeing up the place. It didn’t look much what he expected. Instead of a ramshackle old building, he was greeted by bright colours – splashes of yellow and orange painted on the recently done-up walls. The shop window was decorated with swaths of sheer cloth with diamantes illuminated by spiralling candles. Large sparkly crystals lined the window frame while large, gaudy necklaces hung from stands, with signs declaring the promises that this piece of jewellery will protect you from x, y, and z. Stiles was sceptical that this place had what he needed. He wanted the classics, dammit, but he wasn’t ready to declare this trip a complete failure until he went inside and proved that they didn’t have anything. He climbed out of his car and opened the front door, only to get quite a shock. Sure, the storefront projected on image. But inside…  
Well.  
The inside was something completely different. The front of the shop was definitely full of the commercialized, trinkety “magic” he had been anticipating, with prices so high that it must have only been to appeal to the tourists and naïve. But in the back of the shop lay a sight that was very promising. Bookshelves, lined with old tomes. Fonts older than he was. He was even sure he spotted a cauldron or two next to a set of shelves full of what he was call potions ingredients. It was as though Stiles had stepped into his very own Harry Potter fantasy, and he couldn’t refrain from pinching his own arm to prove he wasn’t, in fact, passed out at Lacrosse practise (yet again).  
“Hello!”  
Stiles looked around for the source of the noise, letting out a tentative “Hi.”  
“How can I help you today, son?”  
“Be visable?” Stiles muttered sarcastically under his breath, still scanning around for the owner of the voice.  
“Oh, sorry! Silly me! Let me just – “  
And before Stiles could flinch, a short man appeared from behind the counter, stood atop what Stiles was sure was a step-ladder so that he could see above the wooden desk.  
“Welcome! My name is Andrew, how can I help?”  
Stiles was still a little surprised by the man’s sudden appearance, and so hesitated before responding.  
“Stiles. Looking for books on magic?”  
“Of course. Potion making, spell casting, history of, magical items and their properties, magical foods, potions and their effects, magical sex, magica-“  
“History” Stiles quickly answered, cheeks flushing red at the words ‘Magical sex’.  
“Ah! Follow me.”  
The man climbed down off his little ladder and sped walked his way through the maze that was the back of the shop. He muttered to himself as he walked, small affirmations of his directions, snorts of anger when he took a wrong turn. They stopped suddenly in one of the far corners of the shop, where the lighting was poor and the books looked older than his grandfather.  
“Here we go, history of magic.” Andrew indicated to all around him.  
“Got the one by Bathilda Bagshot?” Stiles joked, but Andrew didn’t seem to get it, as he began to mutter under his breath as he thought.  
“I was kidding!” Stiles laughed awkwardly. “Um, which one do you think is best?”  
Andrew turned around and reached one right beside him.  
“Thy Longe And Tragyk Hystorie of Magyk, by Artemis Langerhorn.” Stiles read from the cover. “Sounds like a laugh a minute. Got anything a bit more recent?”  
Andrew reached to his other side, where he withdrew a book that not only looked like it had been printed in the last century, but the cover revealed a new clue into the mystery that was Stiles’ childhood.  
“Magic and Mother Nature: The Development of Magic in the Modern World, by Sofia Stilinski?”


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles looked over his purchases back in the comfort of his room. Well, one of them, anyway. He could hardly believe it, but there, in plain black and white, was his mother’s name. He opened the cover and stopped at what he saw. There lay the dedication, which read,  
“To my darling Genim,  
May this one day serve you as well as I had hoped to instruct you.”  
Stiles held back the tears that threatened to fall. This was definitely his mother’s book. But since when had his mother been an expert in all things magic?

 

“Dad.”  
Stiles walked into the kitchen. His Dad was sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee while he worked on his reports. He put down his work as Stiles talked to him and smiled at his son.  
“What’s up, kiddo?”  
Stiles took a breath before talking, trying to work out how best to phrase his next sentence.  
“Was Mom… did she…” Stiles floundered for a second. “Did Mom practise magic?”  
John froze, and Stiles knew that he knew something.  
“Stiles… I guess it’s time we talked about your Mother. Sit.” He indicated to the chair opposite him. Stiles did as he was told.  
“I met your Mom when we were both very young, about 7 or 8. She lived across the road from me.”  
“What does this have to do with-“ Stiles interrupted.  
“You’ll see.” John said.  
“I knew your Mom for a very long time.” He continued, “But the first time I realised that your mother was not normal was only when we were 16 years old. We had been friends for a while, and I was on the brink of asking her to come to the cinema with me when she suddenly started talking about magic. She kept saying that it was real, that the power and beauty of it could change the world if we only believed. She told me that faeries and pixies and trolls inhabited the forests, living alongside werewolves and other dangerous creatures. Of course, I didn’t believe her. Not until years later, after we were married. The night she died, actually.” John stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose, his head bowed. “I should have listened to her earlier. But that night, in the hospital, while you sat fast asleep in the chair beside her bed, Sofia told me everything. Her family were witches and wizards. And you were born to be the next great family magician. She had tried to instruct you for so long, but because she was leaving us, she wrote you something. A book, full of everything you need to know. She said it would come to you when the time was right which… I suppose is what has triggered all this.” John said, gesturing to the two of them.  
“I don’t know much about this magic stuff,” John continued gruffly, “but I do know that I want you safe. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay kid? I know your Mom wanted this for you but your safety is far more important. I can’t lose you too, you know. Who else would cook me breakfast?” John joked.  
“Love you too Pops.” Stiles smiled, though mentally he was processing all that he’d been told. Family of wizards and witches? This was getting far too Harry Potter for Stiles’ liking. 

Stiles split his time for the next week between studying for school (a.k.a trying not to fail chemistry) and learning about his heritage. The book his mother had left him really did have everything he needed. Modern resources for potions, where to buy them, who to ask for help. Spells for the modern home. And at the very end of the book, written on the back inside cover in what Stiles was certain was his mother’s handwriting was the name “Alan Deaton” alongside an address and the words “Your new teacher”.  
Stiles recognised that name. That name belonged to the vet Scott worked for. Stiles knew what he had to do next.

Stiles had never really been a regular visitor to the Beacon Hills Veterinary Clinic, simply on the basis that he’d never had a pet. So when he walked into the clinic at 7am on Saturday morning holding a cup of coffee and his magic textbook, it was an odd sight indeed. Deaton raised an eyebrow, but beside that, barely looked surprised.  
“I suppose it’s time to begin your training then?” He asked Stiles, who simply nodded. “Come with me.”  
Stiles followed the older man to the back of the clinic, in one of the surgery rooms. There, Deaton walked towards a shelf which held two books and countless vials. He removed one book, and collected one rack of the vials.  
“This is your new study tool.” He said, handing the book to Stiles. “And this is what you will be doing for the next day.” Deaton passed him the rack of vials. “I want a potion made from these 6 ingredients on my desk in the next 24 hours. If you succeed, we will continue with your tuition. If you fail, however…” Deaton trailed off, though the threat was clear. If the potion didn’t work, then Stiles would not get to fulfil his mother’s wishes. 

Stiles got to work the second he was back home. The ingredients looked simple enough – aconite, mint leaves, beetle wings, willow bark extract, lavender, and (according to the label) a frog eye. However the potion that used all of these ingredients was the real puzzle. Stiles spent hours poring over the book, trying to absorb as much information as possible while still speeding through to find the potion he needed. He skipped lunch, too absorbed in his work, though his Dad forced him out of his room for dinner. He ran back the second he was excused, however, eager to get started. Time was running out, and he still had no clue where to start. 

Just after midnight, Stiles crowed in success. He had found it! At the very end of the book was a potion called “A Midsummer Dream”. The potion was meant to give the drinker fantastical dreams while putting them to sleep. It encouraged healing and provided a deep sleep which was meant to cure stress. The only issue was it took 6 hours to brew. With only 7 hours before he had to hand in the potion, Stiles rushed into his work. He grabbed a pot from the kitchen, deep enough to contain the ingredients. He boiled water and poured it in, adding the mint leaves to soak for 15 minutes. Meanwhile he set to work crushing the aconite under a knife blade, dicing it into small pieces.  
Once the 15 minutes were through, Stiles added a teaspoon of the willow bark extract to the pot, stirring 3 times counter-clockwise. He added the aconite and left the potion to simmer on the stove for an hour.  
Stiles fell asleep, only to be woken by his phone’s alarm, reminding him to remove the potion from the stovetop. His exhaustion began to set in properly as he prepared the beetle wings and frog eye. His thoughts ran away with him as he diced, pondering the absurdity of the situation. Stiles was 15. Stiles was 15 and he was learning to prepare potions which included frogs eyes in the ingredients. Stiles was 15 and he had no clue what was doing.

At 4 am, the final ingredients were added.  
At 5 am, Stiles’ arm began to ache from the amount of stirring he was having to do.  
At 6am, Stiles’ alarm went off, signalling the end of this gruelling process. He removed the potion from the heat and poured it into one of the now empty vials. About half remained in his pot, which he emptied into the sink, lest his Dad decide to taste it.  
Stiles then hopped into his car, putting the potion on the passenger seat and starting the engine.  
Starting the engine.  
Starting the engine.  
“UGH!” Stiles said, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. The jeep refused to start, only giving a vague whine each time Stiles tried to wake her up. He had 20 minutes to make it to the vet or he was screwed, and all this work would have been in vain. He climbed out of the jeep and popped the lid, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a thing as cars made no sense to him. He stared at the engine for a couple of minutes, trying to will it into working, to no avail. 

15 minutes left, and he was running out of options. It was too far to walk, his Dad was working the night shift, and Scott didn’t have a car. 12 minutes. Lydia Martin had a car. 10 minutes. And Lydia loved to learn new things. 9 minutes. Ring-ring.  
“Hello?” A groggy voice on the other end of the phone answer.  
“Hey Lydia, it’s Stiles. Look I need help.”  
7 minutes. The dialtone rang in Stiles’ ear.  
2 minutes. Lydia’s car idled in the street as Stiles ran over to it.  
“You are a lifesaver, and you are so not going to regret this. There is so much to learn and I’m pretty sure you’ll be smart enough and skilled enough to pick it up, though I don’t know if Deaton will be okay with it, we’ll have to check, though I doubt there’d be a problem…”

 

1 minute.  
They weren’t going to make it.  
They were just too far away. There were three streets to go when the clock on Stiles’ phone hit 7am, indicating they had run out of time. Stiles groaned and held his head in his hands.  
“No.” Lydia said, putting her foot down on the gas. “It is too early in the morning for you to just give up on this, Stiles. I did not make my way across town at this early on a Sunday morning for you to just fail. You are going to march up to Deaton and make him take this stupid vial of fluid, do I even want to know what’s in here? And you are going to explain to me why in god’s name we are doing this in the first place and why you are dragging me into this, understand?”  
Lydia pulled up outside the vet clinic and sat patiently as Stiles slowly made his way inside. He greeted Deaton with a shy grin as he handed the potion over. Deaton looked at his watch and then back to Stiles.  
“It’s 7:10.”  
“I know, I’m sorry, I had car trouble and Lydia had to drive over to give me a ride and she doesn’t even know why and she’s very confused as to why I’m at a vet’s seeing as I never even had so much as an imaginary pet and she’s waiting outside and I really want to learn from you, Dr. Deaton please give me a second chance!”  
Deaton thought for a moment, before sighing and giving Stiles a small smile.  
“Let us begin.”


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles and Scott were tramping their way through the forest, looking for Scott’s missing inhaler. Sure, he no longer felt like he needed it, but that thing had been expensive man, no way were they just going to leave it like trash. They made idle chat while they walked, both avoiding the obvious things that needed to be talked about. For Scott, it was the lycanthropy. For Stiles, the magic. Scott had no clue about Stiles’ magical lineage, and Stiles wasn’t ready to talk to him about it yet. He wanted to let Scott deal with his own brand of whacky before adding this to the mixture.   
“So how far away do you think we are from where you dropped it, dude? Cause not all of us are supernatural beings and are easily exhausted, you know.” Stiles said, scanning the ground around him and clearing the leaves away with a stick.  
“I don’t know, it can’t be too far away now.” Scott replied. “I mean, I just fell down and like, there was the body, and a deer ran past, and I think that’s where I dropped it.”  
“I hope we find it soon.”  
“Me too man, those things are like eighty bucks.” Scott said, bending down and clearing away some leaves.  
In the corner of Stiles’ eye something moved. He turned to see a very scary (and very attractive) guy glaring at them.   
“Scott!” Stiles hissed, “Turn around!”  
Scott stood up next to Stiles as the scary hot guy walked over.  
“What are you two doing here?” He called over to them. He came to a stop just in front of them. “This is private property.”  
“Oh, sorry man, we didn’t know.” Stiles apologised.  
“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but...” Scott paused, “forget it.”  
The scary hot guy threw Scott’s inhaler over, and Scott caught it easily without a second thought. He then turned around and walked away, leaving Scott and Stiles alone in the woods.  
Stiles blinked, shocked, before it suddenly clicked.   
“Dude, that was Derek Hale!” He said, turning to Scott. “You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”  
“Remember what?” Scott asked, confused.   
“His family? They all burned to death in a fire like, 10 years ago.”  
“I wonder what he’s doing back.” Scott said as they started walking back.   
Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. But he was scary. Like, rip out our throats with his teeth kinda scary. But in a hot way.” Stiles rambled.  
“What?” Scott asked, turning around to look at Stiles weirdly.  
“Nothing. Let’s get back home.” Stiles replied quickly, a blush forming on his cheeks. Stupid verbal diarrhoea. 

So Derek Hale. That’d had been a thing. Stiles lay in his bed thinking about it later that night, wondering why Derek had been hanging around there. I mean, sure it had been his property. But why was there a dead body on his property? And how did he already have Scott’s inhaler? And how did he know it was Scott’s? Had he been there the night Scott was bitten? Or maybe… did he do the biting?

Stiles voiced these concerns to Scott the next day at school before Lacrosse practise.   
“Derek Hale is not a… a werewolf.” Scott said, whispering the last two words to ensure the people around him didn’t think he was going crazy.   
“But it adds up. How else did he know we were on his property? And that that was your inhaler? Plus, did you see the way his muscles moved when he threw that thing? Because that was most definitely not human.” Stiles argued. Scott raised an eyebrow, causing Stiles to blush. “Not the point right now. The thing is, something is off with that guy, I just know it. And if he was there that night, werewolf or not, he may have some answers.”  
“We can go talk to him tomorrow after school?” Scott suggested, slamming his locker shut and grabbing his lacrosse sticks. Stiles closed his own locker and followed quickly as Scott walked out to the field.   
“No we can’t go tomorrow, did you forget what day it is?” Stiles hissed at him as Coach gave the team a pre-practise ‘motivational speech’.  
“Friday?” Scott whispered back, confused.  
“No, it’s the full moon, dude! We can’t go talking to a maybe werewolf on the freaking full moon. We’ll die!”  
“McCall! Stilinski! If you two can’t stop gossiping like old ladies in the back, why not go for a couple laps to get that energy burned outta ya!”   
“So what am I going to be doing during the full moon then?” Scott asked as they ran around the track.  
And that’s how Scott ended up handcuffed to a radiator in Stiles’ basement while Stiles watched on from out of arm’s reach, holding a shotgun he had taken from his Dad’s room.   
“Dude, don’t shoot me.” Scott said as they waited for the transformation to occur.  
“Only if you don’t bite me.” Stiles rebuffed, making sure the safety was on. He had his magical texts with him, alongside his laptop and a water bottle. He was going to pull an allnighter to make sure his best friend was safe.

The moon was rising outside, the light of it filtering through the small window above where Scott was restrained.  
“It’s gonna happen soon. You ready?” Stiles asked, though he knew the answer already.  
“How can I be? I’m about to turn into a freaking wolf, Stiles. I don’t know what it’s gonna be like! It might hurt! I might get hurt! You might get hurt! This is such a bad idea man.” Scott groaned. He was sweating, and his eyes and changed colour. Stiles realised he only had a couple minutes before the shift occurred.   
“Look at me.” Stiles said. Scott complied. “You are one of the kindest, gentlest guys I know. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. I know you hate using fly swatters. So believe me when I say that you? You got this. Out of everyone I know, I’m glad it was you that was bitten, because I know you aren’t gonna hurt anyone. And I’m not gonna let you. I have this for a reason.” Stiles said, waving the gun in the air, which caused Scott to flinch.  
“Don’t do that man, you might shoot some-“ Scott said, but cut himself off in a groan of pain.  
The change was starting.   
Fur sprouted from Scott’s skin, his fingernails elongating into claws. His jaw changed shape as his canines lengthened. His forehead looked permanently furrowed into a scowl, and his eyes were a bright yellow. Sure, he was no Remus Lupin from Prisoner of Azkaban, he still retained most of his human features, but of one thing Stiles Stilinski was dead certain.

His best friend was a werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet Der-bear! I just want to clarify that I'm not following the season 1 storyline perfectly. I'm merely using it as a reference. Also as I'm not a huge Allison/Scott shipper, I won't be writing it into this story. Allison will be in the story, but not in the same role she serves in season 1.   
> Thanks for the support so far guys! It's been completely surreal and like, I want to hug every single person who comments, leaves kudos, or hell, even reads this far. You are all amazing. Thank you so much!!


End file.
